Autodidact: (n) a self-taught person. Poet: (n) a person who writes poetry.
Autodidactpoet: (n) A blog full of thoughts from a self-taught writer.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Beings Full of Terrible Wonder, Wanting To Be Known

Okay, so maybe I lied a little bit.

Or, maybe I didn't lie, but I changed my mind. I had another post planned: the part two of my "blowin' it out the badass box" writing, and I wrote it...but I'm not going to share it. That writing is for me. So, you've got a part one without a part two. Sorry not sorry.

(I've never actually used that phrase before. Look at me go...being all hip with the lingo.........or something. YOLO, y'all).

Ahem.

I'm thinking a lot lately about growth and change, and how no one tells you how painful that shit is.

I'm thinking about the fact that growth and change is not linear. It's back and forth and in-between. It's good days and bad days, and days that are both and neither. It's holding on so tight it hurts. It is knowing that you are white-knuckling it through the day. It's doing it anyway.

I'm thinking about the fact that growth comes with hurt so deep it takes your breath away. Growth is days when all you can do is remind yourself that getting to the next moment is your only goal. It's wishing that was hyperbole. I'm thinking about the ways this makes me feel so deeply alone, and knowing I cannot do it alone, and knowing that alone is the only way through it. I'm thinking about the ways we are irrevocably alone, and about the way that the desire to be seen and known in that aloneness aches my bones.

Growth is believing all of these things to be so painful and terrifying, and also believing them to be right and good. It's about finding a way to live those contradictions. It's knowing that shame is not the answer. It is engaging the struggle to believe you are worthy of the fight, of the pain, and of the joy. It's continuing the fight to breathe, while acknowledging that the fight itself is holy. It's knowing this reads like a war story, but wanting it to read like a blessing. It's wanting you to understand that it's both. It just is.

I'm thinking about the fact that sometimes growth means waking up and witnessing your life. I'm thinking about how it means truly feeling everything, and how this is beautiful and right, and so fucking painful. I'm thinking about the fact that sometimes numb is such a way of being, you don't realize it was there until sensation creeps in. I'm realizing that sensation doesn't come back until you see and name the doors you closed to keep her out. I'm trying to believe there is no shame in this seeing, this realizing, this naming, this opening of doors, this waking and feeling. I'm thinking about the ways that I am scared of this, and scared of the way the world will or will not receive me. I'm thinking about how powerful it is to truly witness oneself and ones life. I'm thinking about the bravery that's needed to live into that opening. I'm wondering if I have that power and bravery. It's feeling like I must be the only one who has ever lived this. It's being sure that none of you will really understand. It's knowing I must have the power and bravery, regardless.

I'm thinking about how alive feels different these days. I'm thinking about how being truly alive is electrifying in its intensity, and the ways I find this to be a terrible wonder that makes me curious, and terrified, and confused, and joyful all at once. It is wanting someone just to witness this with me: to know that it is painful and hard and the sheer overwhelming weight of its intensity takes my breath away. It is wanting someone to witness that, through this, there is also so much joy, and gratitude, and amazement. This thing that is happening around and within me is a terrible wonder that is beautiful, and hard, and scary, and ultimately so very right.

Is it the same with you? Are we all beings full of terrible wonder, just wanting to be known?

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About Me

"My continuing passion is to part a curtain,
that invisible shadow that falls between people,
the veil of indifference to each other's presence,
each other's wonder, each other's human plight."
Eudora Welty